


With Thunder In My Veins And Roaring In My Heart

by hart_and_sole



Series: Roaring in my Heart [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jackson is in a permanent state of denial, M/M, Unreliable Narrator, non-standard a/b/o dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hart_and_sole/pseuds/hart_and_sole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things between Scott and Jackson start to get too heavy for Jackson's liking. Meanwhile, with hunters circling the Hale pack, Derek takes drastic measures to bring Scott back into the fold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Thunder In My Veins And Roaring In My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> AU in that Scott and Allison never got back together. There's a very vague implication of possible child abuse (not sexual) and some scenes involving gore.

Jackson woke up with the sun shining on his face and a werewolf pressed against his back. That was the thing about letting yourself fall asleep with Scott, he mused, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. You could push him away all you wanted, and he might even respect that for a while, but you were still going to wake up with an armful of Scott, wrapped tighter around you than any boa constrictor, and probably drooling on you to boot.

No drool this morning, but there was something hard and insistent pressed against his hip that deserved some consideration. He was just reaching back to take matters into his own hands, so to speak, when Melissa McCall’s voice called up the stairs, “Scott, honey, are you up yet?”

“Shit,” he whispered, panicking a little, and shook Scott awake.

“What?” Scott mumbled, scrunching his face up and trying to burrow under the covers again.

“Your mom’s home, doofus.”

That made an impression. Scott was instantly wide awake, and staring back at him with an ‘oh shit’ expression.

“Scott? What’s taking you so long?” Her voice was closer. Fuck, she was coming up the stairs.

Jackson leapt from the bed and scrambled to find his clothes, pulling them on as quick as he caught hold of them. “You said she wouldn’t be home until seven!”

Scott fumbled for his alarm clock, cursed, and slammed it back down. “It’s seven fifteen. I must have forgot to set my alarm.”

“You unbelievable _moron_!” Jackson hissed, really starting to panic now. He couldn’t find his shirt. Shit, she was right _outside_ -

“Get under the bed! Now!” Scott hissed. Seconds later his mom opened the door.

“Mom!” Jackson listened to Scott whine from his hiding place. “You can’t just barge in here! What if I’d been -”

“I’m your mother, you haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before, kiddo. And you are going to be late for school! Up, up!” she ordered, and Jackson could see her feet coming closer from his position. He only hoped she wouldn’t look down.

Rustling, and oh my God, was she actually going to pull the sheets right off him?

“Mom! Jeez, can’t I have one iota of privacy? This is probably considered child abuse somewhere in the world.”

“Not in this house it’s not,” his mother shot back, not amused. She sighed. “Just get ready for school, okay? They already think I’m a bad mother, without you showing up late on top of it.”

A pause. “You’re not a bad mother. Screw them,” Scott replied quietly, and Jackson squirmed, feeling like he was intruding.

The bed creaked as Ms. McCall sat down. Great. Just great. “From your lips to God’s ears, baby.” Another long, drawn out pause, before she spoke again, this time sounding concerned. “You know if there’s anything bothering you you can tell me, right? You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

Jesus. An actual heart to heart over a lousy half hour sleep in. Why couldn’t she just have thrown a sock at his head, like Jackson’s dad would have done? He wished he was anywhere but here.

Scott grunted, and Jackson could hear him smooshing his face into the pillow, making his next words near incomprehensible. “I’m fine, mom.”

“I never see you anymore,” she said, words inflected with over the top, wistful sadness.

“Mooommm.”

“I know, I know, less of the overbearing mother act. I just worry, okay?” She heaved out a breath, and stood. “If you’re not up and ready to go in fifteen minutes I’m going to throw a bucket of water on you.”

Scott laughed. “Okay.”

Melissa started to move towards the door again, and Jackson thought he might be able to finally breathe again when she paused.

“Oh. What’s this, Scott?”

He could imagine Scott squinting up at whatever his mother was holding up at him. Jackson couldn’t quite see. “A shirt?”

“A shirt, he says. Since when can we afford Hugo Boss on our budget, mister?”

Jackson could feel the blood draining from his face where he lay.

Thankfully, Scott recovered from the discovery quicker than he did. “Since I have my own job that pays my own wage that I can spend on whatever I want to?” he replied airily. Jackson knew there was a cheeky smile to go with it.

Melissa McCall snorted. “Fine. It’s just a lot of money to spend on one shirt, that’s all. Who are you trying to impress, anyway? Allison?” she teased.

“Oh my God, would you please just leave me be to get dressed? I really am going to be late,” Scott complained.

His mother just laughed, opening the door. “I’m going, I’m going!”

The door shut behind her, but it wasn’t until he heard the creak of her feet on the staircase that Jackson breathed a sigh of relief and crept out from under the bed. Scott’s face was flaming red when he looked at him.

“Let’s never talk about that again,” Scott said with false gaiety. He flung Jackson’s designer shirt at his head.

Jackson pulled it on. “Lets,” Jackson agreed. He went to the window and opened it, preparing to leave.

“Jackson, wait!”

Jackson paused, half out the window already.

“I’ll see you at school?” More question than statement, and underlain with hope.

“Probably,” Jackson said over his shoulder, ignoring the faint fluttering in his stomach, then stepped off the window ledge.

That was too close, he thought as he made his way home. School could wait - he was an honours student and he had Coach Finstock for first period, who’d more than likely let it slide this once - there was no way he was going before he’d had a shower and a change of clothes.

There was no-one home when he got there, which was nothing new. His parents were loving but frequently absent, workaholics that they were, which suited Jackson just fine, considering how little time he’d spent at home lately. He stripped off and stepped into the shower. This was getting to be a habit - letting the water ease away all his aches and worries. He stepped out just as soon as he was clean, not allowing himself that simple comfort. He hated that feeling of dependency.

He was becoming dependant on entirely too much. That close call this morning should never have happened. He should never have stayed over. He wished he could go back in time to the first time he’d fallen asleep in Scott’s bed and kick himself. The first night had passed without incident, so it was all too easy to say to himself, ‘well, what harm could it do?’ as Scott pulled back the covers in invitation the second. Now they slept together more nights out of the week than he ever had with Lydia.

Of course regular, spine-tingling, toe-curling sex was nothing to sneeze at. It was just that after all that time together, things were starting to get kind of heavy. He’d wake up in the middle of the night with Scott nuzzling at his throat, or twining their fingers together, or just stroking his skin in his sleep, and all of a sudden he’d feel like he was suffocating. The way Scott _looked_ at him sometimes…

He’d just have to have a talk with the kid later. Better to set him straight before things went too far.

All his worries safely compartmentalised in the back of his thoughts, Jackson finally made his way to school. As he set to parking his baby somewhere where she wouldn’t be dinged by some sophomore with a newly minted driving license, he noticed a dirty old pickup truck pulling up outside the school. He couldn’t help but pause when he saw Allison hop out of the passenger seat, slamming the door closed behind her and laughing.

He got out of his car and craned his neck to get a better look at the guy in the driver’s seat. Mid-twenties, a little rough round the edges, and quite clearly leering at Allison’s ass in her tight pair of jeans. Now what in the world could sweet, innocent Allison be doing with a guy like that?

He locked his car and hurried to catch up with her. “Allison! Wait up!”

She turned, looking surprised and maybe a touch guilty. “Jackson! I didn’t see you. You’re running late, aren’t you?” A little accusing, there. Did she think she’d been followed?

“I could say the same for you. I wasn’t home last night - I needed to stop home for a change of clothes,” he said, smiling pleasantly, watching her blush at the implication. “Who’s your friend?”

Her heart started racing. Interesting. “We’ve got a bunch of extended family and friends visiting. Caleb was just, um, showing me something this morning, and I lost track of time.” Her heartbeat told a different story.

“I’ll bet,” he said, a world of implication in those two words.

Allison flushed a dark red, face furious and embarrassed, gave him one betrayed glance, and walked away. Jackson had the grace to feel at least a little ashamed of himself.

“Allison! Wait up!” He hurried to catch up with her again, put a hand on her arm to stop her. She whirled around to face him and there were tears standing in her eyes. Well, shit. Now he really did feel like a dick. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

She laughed mirthlessly. “Yes you did. Caleb is my father’s friend. It’s not like that, I _swear_ -”

That sounded like truth. “I believe you.” The wounded look started to bleed from her expression. Fuck, she really was just that naïve. “But do me a favour? Watch out for that guy. If my ‘friend’ was looking at my daughter the way I saw him looking at you he’d be missing teeth right about now.”

A smile blossomed on her face, and it seemed he’d been forgiven, just like that. And okay, maybe when she looked at him like that he could see a little of why Scott had been so crazy over her. Jesus, she really was sickeningly perfect.

They went their separate ways to class, but Jackson was still thinking about the weird feeling he’d gotten from that Caleb guy when lunchtime rolled around.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Lydia plunked her tray down beside his with an aggravated sigh. He took the bait. “What’s up?”

Lydia took an angry bite of a carrot stick, no doubt imagining it was someone’s head. “Allison bailed on me. She’s had a bunch of family staying over and she doesn’t have time for anything else. Why couldn’t she be embarrassed by them, like normal people?”

“You know, contrary to popular belief, some people do in actual fact have functional, happy nuclear families.” Not that he’d seen many, but you never knew, it could happen.

Lydia arched one perfect brow. “Do most of those functional, happy nuclear families have insane stockpiles of weapons and an unnatural love for shooting at things? She says they’re helping her with her archery. The one that picked her up the other day said he was taking her deerstalking. Said she needed to be ‘blooded.’ Does that sound normal to you?”

Actually, that sounded alarmingly like a clan of werewolf hunters of questionable morals had just set up shop in Beacon Hills, but he wasn’t about to tell Lydia that. “Sure. If this were the Ozarks. Maybe they’re a bunch of crazy libertarian survivalists or something.”

“I vote ‘or something.’ I don’t like it,” Lydia said, frowning at her food. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Lydia,” Jackson said in a singsong voice, “you do have a heart in there!” Teasing might deflect her attention from the hunter situation. He couldn’t forget she was a lot smarter than she let on. It worked - she let out an exaggerated gasp and threw a carrot at his face.

“You asked for it!” Jackson laughed, and flicked a spoonful of peas at her head, starting an all out food fight. They were both a mess within minutes, but it was worth it to see her so happy and carefree for once. He reached out to wipe a drop of gravy off her nose, and wondered why he couldn’t have appreciated how easy things had been when he’d been with Lydia.

Lydia coughed and looked away, breaking the moment.

Across the cafeteria, Jackson heard a low growl and froze. No-one else was reacting. He looked over and saw Scott staring at them. Intent, predatory, kind of scary. His hand was crushing a carton of milk and Stiles was rubbing his shoulder and talking frantically in his ear. Jackson fought the inexplicable urge to whine and began to inch away from Lydia. The growling stopped. Jesus. He’d have to talk to Scott about his apparent jealousy issues.

On his way out to his next class, Scott grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into an empty classroom. He leaned in for a kiss but Jackson stopped him with a raised hand. “Yeah, I don’t think so. What the hell was that back there?”

Scott turned a sheepish expression on him and ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

“You have got to get some training.”

“I practice the control stuff with Stiles.”

“It’s not enough. You need to learn from a real werewolf. Someone who actually knows his head from his ass,” Jackson said.

Scott did not look impressed. “Someone like Derek, you mean. No,” he said decisively, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’m dealing so bad, all things considered.”

Jackson snorted. “You keep telling yourself that.” He turned to leave.

“Wait,” Scott said, something tentative in his tone. “Can I come over to your place tonight? My mom’s having friends over. I can tell her I’m staying with Stiles.”

Jackson’s place was the safest choice, after the near disaster this morning. A locking door and parents that left himself to himself were an added benefit. “Sure, I guess,” he conceded. “I’m supposed to go over to Derek’s tonight. Come over sometime after twelve.”

Scott nodded and turned to go. He looked back at Jackson in the doorway, seeming hesitant. “It wasn’t at you. The growling, I mean. I know I shouldn’t be making dog noises at school in the first place, but it was never at you,” he said, sounding ashamed. “It was at her.”

Jackson stared after him as he went, surprised and oddly relieved despite himself.

***

Jackson was sitting at Derek’s kitchen table, laptop open and staring at the screen intently when Derek came up behind him and started reading over his shoulder.

“‘Social structure of the grey wolf pack.’ You realise most of those studies are outdated and usually based on artificially created or captive wolf packs, right?”

Jackson twitched. “Yes.” No, not really.

Derek slumped into a chair with the sigh of a man who’d done a long hard day of work, which, judging by the halfway presentable state of the hallway when Jackson’d walked in, he probably had. Derek inhaled half of the cup of coffee that seemed to have apparated into his hand. “Besides,” he continued, an amused smile playing at his lips, “in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re not wolves.”

“Duh.” Jackson rolled his eyes.

“That means that whatever ‘rules’ you think apply to true wolves won’t automatically carry over to the werewolf side. Werewolves aren’t exactly human, but we’re not wolves either. We have our own culture; our own rules. You won’t learn them by reading some webpage.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. So what did you want to know?”

“Did you know a bunch of the Argent’s hunter buddies have set up camp in town?” That had nothing to do with what Jackson was researching zoology for at all, but since he had no intention of discussing his sex life with Derek, it seemed like a pretty good deflection. Besides, it was probably important.

“Where did you hear that?” Derek turned suddenly fierce, intent eyes on him, and Jackson forced himself not to squirm, reminding himself that he’d done nothing wrong.

“I saw one of them. Some guy named Caleb dropped Allison off at school this morning. When I asked about him she said she had family staying over. Lydia said they were a bunch of gun nuts. I drew a logical conclusion.”

Derek hissed out a breath. “Damn it,” he whispered. He got up from his seat and paced around for a bit. Eventually he pulled his hands through his hair and stopped. “It’s a full moon tomorrow night - I need you to try to get Scott to come over.”

Jackson shifted uncomfortably, not liking where this seemed to be heading. “What am I, his mother? Why in the hell do you think he’d listen to me?”

Derek gave Jackson his patented ‘I’m Derek Hale and don’t dare fuck with me’ glare. “Do you think I’m stupid, Jackson? Did you think I didn’t realise the minute you two started fucking around? His scent’s all over you.”

Jackson gaped at him. “Why didn’t you -”

“Say something? Because I didn’t care. To tell you the truth, I thought it might be enough to bring that stubborn little bastard back into the pack, but that doesn’t seem to be happening. I need you to be a little more proactive. Get him to come.”

Jackson looked heavenward, praying for strength. Were all other werewolves such hardheaded jackasses? “I hate to break it to you, but Scott kind of hates your guts. I don’t get this fixation on him anyway. He has whatever qualities you think a second should have, fine, but why can’t you just go _make_ yourself a second? There are any number of stupidly brave dumbasses you could go out and bite right now.”

“It’s not that simple,” Derek said, sounding weary now. He slumped back down in his chair, rubbing at his face. “The bite can kill someone just as easily as turn them. Some people can take it and some can’t. It’s a calculated risk - one I can’t afford to take right now in a town crawling with hunters. You think they wouldn’t put me down like a rabid dog the second some kid turns up dead of an infected animal bite?”

Jackson didn’t reply, still hung up on the whole ‘your bite could easily have killed you’ aspect. Derek didn’t seem to notice.

Derek looked at him seriously, and for once without the faint condescension. “We’re stronger in numbers. The stronger our pack the better protection we have against hunters.”

“But they have a code,” Jackson insisted, desperately wanting to cling to the safety that implied. He’d done nothing wrong; he’d be okay.

“You think Kate was the only fanatic? They’re not all like Chris Argent, just keeping the killers in line - plenty of them want to wipe us out entirely. They don’t need an excuse. Hell, I’ve heard of one group that hunts werewolves for fun.”

Jackson sat in silence absorbing that for a while. Suddenly the whole werewolf thing didn’t seem like such a good deal.

“You see now, why I need him? Why we need him?” Derek implored. “And more to the point, he’s not safe out there by himself on a full moon. If he gets out and hurts someone, it could be a death warrant for all of us.”

All the colour drained from Jackson’s face. He nodded. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask, Jackson,” Derek said, sounding more relieved than Jackson had ever heard him.

So Jackson went home and waited for Scott, trying to think of what he’d say and how he’d say it. He’d wait till after they’d had sex - Scott was always dopey and surprisingly agreeable after he’d come, so that seemed like his best bet.

He woke from his doze to the sound of gravel bouncing off glass. Jackson went over to the window and opened it to see Scott standing below, soaked to the skin and looking sheepish. “I accidentally set off the sprinklers.”

Jackson snorted out a laugh and shook his head. Trust Scott. “Get up here. Don’t drip on anything.”

Scott managed to scramble his way up, but paused on the window ledge, eyeing Jackson’s expensive plush white carpet and his own wet clothes. ‘Fuck it,’ Jackson thought to himself, and pulled Scott in by his shirtfront. “Strip,” he commanded. “I’ll get you a towel.”

Scott shrugged and began pulling his clothes off. When Jackson returned, towel in hand, he took it and began running it through his hair. “Your parents home?”

“Mom’s working on something in the office - she’s in the zone, she won’t bother us.”

“What about your dad?”

“Business trip.” Third one this month.

Scott looked at him shrewdly. “He’s gone a lot,” he said softly. Like he felt sorry for Jackson. There was nothing Jackson hated more than being pitied.

“Better than not here at all. How about yours? Since we’re talking about absent fathers and all,” Jackson said, defensive and aiming to hurt.

Scott just stared back at him flatly, unimpressed. “I used to live with my dad,” he started, voice perfectly even; almost nonchalant but for the hard glint in his eyes. “Until CPS took me away. So yeah, me and mom don’t see much of him these days. We like it that way.”

Jackson winced. Fuck. There was crossing a line, and then there was stomping all over it in jackboots. “Scott…”

Scott waved him off, and went to lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t know. We’re better off without him anyway.”

Jackson lay down beside Scott tentatively. “You want to talk about it?” he asked, turning his head to look at him searchingly.

“No, not really,” Scott replied, sounding a million miles away. His fingers kept reaching up to touch that little scar on his cheekbone, just under his eye. Jackson had noticed the mark before, but never thought to ask how he'd got it. Now he was half afraid to. He kept his mouth shut, but bumped their shoulders together; a wordless ‘I’m here.’

They crept under the covers eventually, naked and curled tighter together than a pile of puppies, but it never went further than that. Jackson fell asleep with Scott wrapped tightly in his arms, and knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was turning into something deeper than he could handle.

***

He woke to an empty bed and the screech of an alarm clock in his ears. He growled and threw the damned thing at the wall. Finally. Blessed silence.

Scott must have snuck back out while he slept. At first Jackson was glad he’d be spared the inevitable emotional, awkward as hell morning after conversation, but then he realised he’d never got round to talking to Scott about coming over to Derek’s tonight. Great. Now, instead of a pliable, sex softened Scott, he was going to have to ask an irritable werewolf at his time of the month. ‘Way to make things easier on yourself, Jackson.’

In his four months since becoming a werewolf, Jackson had learned to hate, loathe and despise the full moon. There was no shaking the restless unease that sat just under his skin, putting him in constant motion. Things that he usually took in his stride aggravated him to no end, and adding to the discomfort was the unbearable hypersensitivity of his senses that threatened to drive him up the wall. Worst of all was having to cope with all that while cooped up in a classroom trying to concentrate on his schoolwork. Thank god it was only once a month.

He suffered through most of the day without ever laying eyes on Scott, so he had frustration to add to the mounting pile of things that were pissing him off. When he finally did catch a glimpse of him - standing at his locker, Stiles at his side - Danny waylaid him.

Fuck, that was the guilt trip face if ever he’d seen it. No-one did guilt like Danny. “I’m going to have to assume that your phone got eaten by a hungry mountain lion or something, because there’s no way that my best friend Jackson would actually be screening my calls, is there?”

Jackson peeked around Danny to see Scott shut his locker and move away. He really needed to go talk to him…but now Danny was giving him the ‘I am disappointed and trying not to show it’ look. Damn.

“Danny, look, I’m sorry, I’ve just been…busy.” God, that sounded pathetic. “I’ve had a lot on my plate lately. We’ll do something later, I promise, but there’s something I have to do tonight -”

“What’s her name?” Danny said, smiling now.

“…what?”

“Well, I can only think of one thing that’d make you as damn preoccupied as you have been lately - you’ve totally got a new girlfriend! Who is she?”

“There is no girlfriend -” Jackson sputtered, trying to hide his growing alarm.

Danny put his hands up. “All right, all right, you don’t want to name names, that’s fine. I’m glad, anyway - you’ve seemed happier since this mystery girl came into the picture. I’d been worried about you after all the shit that happened before winter break.”

Jackson was speechless. Thankfully the bell rang, saving him from thinking of an actual response to Danny’s theory. “I’ll call you later. Got to go,” he said, and if Danny caught the relief in Jackson’s voice, he didn’t mention it, just gave a puzzled wave as Jackson practically ran away from him.

He turned the corner and ran straight into Scott. Scott grasped his arm to steady him, and there it was - that spark of electricity along his skin, making him _want_ -

Scott was leaning in close, sniffing subtly at his neck and looking half hypnotised. Jackson felt like that himself, lost in instinct, until he caught a flash of animal-shine gold as Scott tilted his head just so. Shit. Not in school. He thought fast and immediately stamped his foot down on Scott’s toes.

“Ow!” Scott cried, back to human, and more surprised than pissed off. “What was that for?”

Jackson motioned at his own eyes and hissed, “ _Gold_.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Jackson snapped. “Get a hold of yourself.”

Scott was starting to look unhappy himself now, and two pissy, hormonal werewolves getting into an argument had no way of ending up well (Derek had given him plenty of experience with that) so Jackson cut him off before he could speak. “Listen, I’m late for class, but I need to ask you something later. I’ll come over to your house sometime before sundown.”

“Okay?” Scott replied, a faint look of confusion cast on his features. Jackson turned on his heel before anything else could happen, scattering a couple of loitering freshmen with bush baby eyes with nothing more than a hard glare.

He was late for class, which seemed to trigger a domino effect of minor inconveniences and annoyances that gradually built until the final bell rang at the end of the day and Jackson just wanted to howl - literally - in frustration.

Later he opened Scott’s unlocked front door and went in search of him, following the heady, earthy scent of him all the way upstairs. He wasn’t in any of the rooms, and he was confused as to why his nose was telling him ‘up,’ until he noticed the open door to the attic above him.

“I’m up here!” Scott’s voice called.

“I noticed. Are you going to let down the ladder or do I have to jump?” There was no reply, but a collapsible ladder appeared after a while, and Jackson climbed slowly up.

It was dim up there, and the dust motes drifting in the air tickled his sensitive nose. He looked around him, taking in the assortment of musty old boxes and forgotten children’s toys, and stopped dead when he noticed the giant wrought iron bed frame decorated with an assortment of what looked like heavy duty bondage gear that Scott was inspecting.

He thought about backing away very slowly, when Scott finished testing his strength against one of the four padded manacles on the bed and finally turned around.

He looked…off, somehow. There was something in his eyes that Jackson had never seen there before. Barely contained anger rolled off him in waves, which was alarming enough, but beneath that was something that looked a lot like distress. Something that couldn’t be accounted for just by the looming threat of the moon.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what was wrong when Scott snapped, “What?”

Jackson gathered his thoughts and found himself stuttering his words when he found the ones he needed. “I - I just needed to ask you something for Derek.”

Scott scowled like a goblin and turned back to the bed frame, continuing to test it for weak spots. “You can go back to Derek and tell him to shove whatever it is.”

“Yes, Scotty, I’d imagine that would go down well,” Jackson shot back, finding his courage again. “He wants you to come over to his house for the full moon tonight. There are hunters all over town right now, and he thinks it’d be safer for us all if you’d stay with us.”

Scott straightened to his full height and turned to Jackson, mean and irritated. “Look, I may not be as God damn perfect at everything I do as you are, but I am not stupid! Me and Stiles can get by at this shit just fine by ourselves. I don’t need you to baby-sit me, and I sure as hell don’t need Derek fucking Hale telling me how to live my life!”

Only his absolute certainty that Scott would never hurt him kept Jackson from cowering back instinctively. As it was, he couldn’t help the slightest of flinches.

Scott turned away, hands clenched tightly around the bed frame in a white knuckled grip. “Just go, Jackson. Please. I’m fine here, I swear. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Jackson murmured, and turned tail and left. He pored over that scene all the way to Derek’s, wondering just what in the hell had set Scott off that badly. He knew something must have happened between this morning and now, but he had no idea what it might have been.

Derek frowned at him when he came into the basement empty handed, just before moonrise. “No luck?”

Jackson shook his head. “With the mood he’s in right now I’m lucky he didn’t bite my head clean off.”

“Fine,” Derek sighed, and ushered Jackson into the cage.

Jackson could do nothing but pace, bored and frustrated and, yes, worried. He pulled back on the bars of the cage and snorted like a bull. “Damn it, can’t I at least have a book in here or something?”

Derek just looked at him from where he was sitting and raised an eyebrow. “You honestly think you’d have the patience to read it?”

“…no, probably not,” Jackson conceded, and went back to pacing. He could feel it when the moon rose, even if he couldn’t see it from where he was. It was like an itch, deep under his skin. Like his body wasn’t a strong enough container for the beast down deep in his soul. He let himself shift, desperate for relief, and that hurt too, but it was better than the damnable, skin crawling itch.

Things felt simpler in the wolf’s skin. The wolf was angry - angry that he was caged and unable to hunt, and angry that his pack wasn’t complete. The wolf hungered. Time passed, but his frustrated fury would not ebb.

A howl rose up in the night air, and Jackson felt the call down in his bones, shivering along his spine. _Mate_. He answered the call, howling long and low and needful.

“Stop that! Stop that right now! People could _hear_ you!” Derek growled, nose to the cage and eyes glowing red. The human in the back of the wolf’s head thought he looked scared, and that was enough to shake the hateful, hungry haze from Jackson’s mind.

“What’s happening?” Jackson asked tremulously, just enough in control to keep the wolf at bay.

“Scott’s in trouble,” he said simply, already leaving.

“Wait! You can’t just leave me here! I can help!”

“You’re safer here. Stay put - I’ll be back soon,” Derek called, and then he was gone.

Jackson howled, human, in frustration and anger and fear, rattling the bars of his cage. He slumped to the floor, defeated. He waited.

What felt like an eternity later, Derek returned, leading a worryingly subdued and altogether human Scott towards Jackson.

Derek opened the cage and stood by to let Scott in, which he did wordlessly and without complaint. Then Jackson got a good look at his face, and it took his breath away.

He was pale, but it was his utterly shell shocked expression that made Jackson blurt, “Who died?”

Scott crumpled to the floor, shook his head faintly. “Stiles…”

“You killed Stiles?!”

“No!” he was quick to assert. “No. I slipped my chains - dislocated most of my joints to do it - and I was so, so angry. Stiles was just in the way. I hurt him. Put my claws in his neck. I didn’t mean to hurt him…”

“But you did,” Derek said coldly. “You were lucky this time, kid. You could have done some real damage.”

“I know that!” Scott snapped, and Jackson was glad to see that deadened expression gone, even if it meant Scott’s wolf was coming back out to play. The change whipped through him, and Jackson’s wolf thrilled to see it.

Scott’s eyes were fierce and wild and desperate when they looked at him, and it was the most natural thing in the world to go to him. Soon their clothes lay in shreds beside them and they came to each other wolf to wolf. At some point the alpha made an annoyed sound and left them alone.

Their wolves rutted in wild abandon, the unseen moonlight coursing through their veins. He was owned; adored; needed. _Wanted_. They were made for this, he felt somewhere down deep where thought abided, as the wolf on top of him made him his.

Then there came a pause and a low growl, before suddenly he felt teeth, sharp and hard, on the back of his neck. He yelped, and there came a purring rumble in his ear, and a soothing, consolatory lick to his skin, and the mating resumed. His body arched in pleasure.

Sometime much later, human consciousness returned, and Jackson blinked awake to find himself lying naked on the floor, curled against Scott, his body sticky with sweat and come. Scott murmured against the back of his neck, which ached for some reason. Jackson let sleep creep over him once more.

Morning came, and he woke to the sound of birdsong and the shuffling of Derek’s feet as he entered the room. “Morning, puppies,” the alpha said cheerfully.

Scott’s arm tightened around his waist, and he growled softly.

“Now, now, Scott, that’s no way to greet someone who helped save your skin last night.”

Jackson sleepily moved away from Scott and tried to find his clothes. He didn’t have to look at him to know he was scowling fiercely. When he found the pile of what had been their clothes, he groaned. Shredded. He’d be lucky if he could sneak home without a public indecency citation.

Derek unlocked the cage and continued on, oblivious to the sour mood of its occupants. “I’ll need you both over tonight. You both need to be initiated properly - that means we have to go hunting.”

“I’m not going.”

Jackson paused in pulling on the remnants of his jeans to look back at Scott. He was deadly serious.

“What?” Derek said, incredulous, something dangerous creeping into his tone that Jackson didn’t like the sound of. He backed away from the both of them.

“I said, I’m not going hunting with you.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be a person, you idiot. A deer would do -”

“I didn’t think it did, and I am not as god damn stupid as everyone seems to think I am. You think I don’t know that there’s something in this for you -”

They were chest to chest now, and Derek looked downright _furious_ , but Scott didn’t seem to be about to back down. Jackson didn’t want to look.

“Yes, there’s something in this for me - hunters not deciding we’re dangerous and putting us down like a pack of rabid dogs! You endangered all of us last night. You need proper training. You need the discipline of a real pack. If this is about me killing Peter -”

“I can’t _trust_ you, Derek!” Scott cried, voice cracking. “Maybe you didn’t think it would cure me, or maybe you just wanted to be Alpha yourself, but you lied to me! You promised!”

Derek - confident, all knowing Derek - had nothing to say to that. They stood staring at each other; Scott near tears and Derek vaguely ashamed. After a moment Scott shook his head as if to clear it and leaned down to gather his clothes in his arms. He caught Jackson’s eye and murmured a quick “Later,” briefly touching his fingers to Jackson’s, and left.

“Well, this is awkward,” Jackson said after a while, breaking the oppressive silence in the room. He started to move away, but as he passed Derek, the other wolf caught him by the arm and spun him around. Jackson was about to protest - and quite inventively, at that - when Derek silently manhandled him so he could see the back of Jackson’s neck. He touched it lightly, and Jackson winced.

“Ow! What the hell is that? I thought I was supposed to have super healing now?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Derek look at his neck in mute fascination. “You do, but this was made by another wolf.”

“Oh. I think Scott might have bit me last night. Why hasn’t it healed?”

Derek let go of his neck, and Jackson turned to face him. The expression on his face was disturbingly like the cat that got the cream. He snorted out a faint laugh. “He won’t be gone long then. I didn’t know you two were that serious.”

Jackson was growing increasingly alarmed. “What are you talking about?” He pressed his fingers to the back of his neck, feeling the sting of abused flesh. “What does this mean?”

Derek laughed again, and Jackson wanted to punch him. “He’s marked you. My claw marks on your neck must have killed him to look at, if that’s how things are between you.”

“And _what_ , exactly, are you assuming here?” Jackson gritted out. “What happened last night?”

The infuriating grin slipped from Derek’s face, and he looked at Jackson a bit more seriously. “For two werewolves, this kind of marking is tantamount to marriage. It means you’ve singled each other out as mates.”

Jackson couldn’t breathe for a moment, let alone think. He actually staggered back a step, and Derek caught him by the arm to steady him, suddenly a lot more concerned. “Jesus, you really did know fuck all about this.”

Jackson broke through his abject panic for a minute to glare at Derek. “Do you actually think for one second that I would have _chosen_ to werewolf marry that…that…”

“That’s just it, kid - you kind of had to,” Derek said, as careful as if he were stepping on a landmine. “You can’t just accidentally enter into a marking ceremony. On some level it has to be intentional. There had to have been intention, on Scott’s part -”

“I never agreed to any such thing! He can damn well _un_ intend it -”

“- and you would have had to accept it. It wouldn’t take otherwise.”

No. No, this was just flat out unacceptable. “What can I do to undo this?” Jackson ground out tersely. He was on his last shred of patience for Derek Hale.

Derek gave him a sympathetic wince. “I honestly don’t know. I’ve never heard of anyone who wanted rid of their mark before.”

Jackson’s heart sank. He didn’t like the look on Derek’s face; the one that said, ‘you aren’t going to like what I have to say, but I’m going to say it anyway.’

“I don’t understand why you’re fighting this so hard. You want this, Jackson. Is it some kind of gay panic thing? The fact that you’re kids? Is it a status thing?”

“It’s a flat out ‘I don’t want to be mated to Scott McCall’ thing!” Jackson yelled, furious now, and near frustrated tears. “I don’t want this! My stupid wolf wants this! Not me!”

Derek looked at him steadily, expression sad and knowing. “You don’t get it. The wolf _is_ you. He’s wild - he runs on pure instinct, and he has no inhibitions and fewer morals, but the wolf is a part of you. He wants it because _you_ want it.”

He refused to stand there and listen to a word more. It wasn’t true. It couldn't be. He barely heard Derek’s voice as he shouted at him to come back, but Jackson just couldn’t be in that room anymore. He needed to fix this. He needed Scott. Needed to _find_ Scott, he corrected that pathetic, needy part of him. That was the part that had got him into this mess. This had gone too far.

He went home and changed, ignoring his mother’s questions, and drove to school, listening for Scott’s heartbeat as he went. How sad was it that he knew that one heartbeat amongst so many?

He found Scott sitting on the bleachers out on the lacrosse field, knees pressed to his chest and head down. He looked awful; small and worn and miserable. Jackson hardened his heart, and stopped below him.

Scott looked down at him. “Hey,” he said softly, forcing a faint smile.

“We’re breaking up,” Jackson informed him.

“What?” Scott asked, apparently not quite believing what he was hearing. It had certainly got his attention, anyway.

“You’re too damn clingy, Scott,” Jackson said, cold as ice, careful not to let a hint of emotion enter his voice. “This was supposed to be about…relieving certain tensions. You weren’t supposed to go and have _feelings_ for me.” The last came out accusingly.

“What the hell, Jackson? Yeah, so maybe I do feel something - I’m not some kind of robot! Maybe you go around having lots of meaningless sex, but I don’t. And I’m not ashamed.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Oh Christ. Did I take your virginity? Congratulations, you lost your V-Card, but guess what? That doesn’t mean we’re in love. You had no business leaving your mark on me without asking!” Jackson near shouted the last, losing his temper. Thankfully there was no-one nearby.

“What? What mark?”

Scott looked at him with that sweet, baffled puppy dog face, and Jackson was just sick of the sight of it. Perpetual confusion only got you so far when you were also perpetually fucking up. “You bit me last night. Derek says it’s permanent.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -”

“You wind up doing a whole lot you don’t mean to, Scott,” Jackson snapped. “That’s not good enough. We’re through. No more fucking, no more feelings, and this stupid werewolf marriage doesn’t exist.”

“Marriage?!” Scott yelped. “Just what in the hell did I do?”

“Just, you know, marked me as your mate, which is apparently like a nice chapel service in the wolf community,” Jackson sneered, disdain dripping from every word. He neglected to mention that it had supposedly been half his doing.

Scott was beginning to get angry right back. He climbed over the bleachers to stand face to face with Jackson. “Do you think I wanted to be stuck with you for the rest of my life? I liked girls - I liked _Allison._ Maybe I might even have got back together with her some day, but you went and got yourself bit and my wolf decided it wanted nothing more than you! I didn’t choose this either!”

“And I say it’s not their decision to make. I have had enough of this stupid wolf’s stupid instincts, and I have had enough of you. It’s over.” Jackson was breathing hard, and standing chest to chest with Scott.

“Fine,” Scott scoffed, anger overwriting anything else that might have shown on his face.

Scott was the one to walk away, without a backwards glance. Jackson watched him go, and told himself he’d done the right thing. It had to be.

***  
The entire day was a blur to him, and when school let out the instincts that he’d said he was done listening to led him back to the lacrosse field. The scene of the crime. Jesus, listen to him. He had to remind himself he’d done nothing wrong. That he’d done what he needed to.

That didn’t stop the sick lurch in his gut when he heard Stiles’ voice echoing from the tunnel. Where Stiles went, Scott usually followed. He quickly hid under the bleachers, and focused on calming his breathing, knowing Scott would hear it.

Scott and Stiles walked onto the field in their practice gear; Scott quiet, and Stiles chattering away in his ear, about what Jackson couldn’t be bothered to make out. They shot a ball around some before sticking Scott in goal and having Stiles try to get something past him.

“Dude, that was our last ball!” Stiles whined when Scott deflected yet another ball off the field entirely.

“Sorry.” Scott didn’t sound particularly sorry, just sort of…deflated. Empty.

Stiles sighed and pulled off his gloves. “Okay, since blowing off steam doesn’t seem to be doing that much good, we’re just going to sit down and talk about this.”

Scott had the sense not to argue, but he did let out one world weary sigh before following Stiles towards the bleachers. Among hundreds of spots, they managed to pick a bench not five feet away from Jackson. Jackson cursed inwardly, and did his best to quiet his breathing.

“Are you feeling alright today?” Scott finally said, tentative and brimming with shame.

Jackson watched them through the gaps in the benches. He could see Stiles smiling for Scott like nothing was wrong. “Dude, it was barely more than a scratch! I could have done without the life story that went with it though, I’ve got to be honest. I already knew pretty much every single thing that’s ever happened to you, so it was kind of pointless.”

“I’m sorry.”

Whatever snappy line Stiles wanted to say in response seemed to stick in his throat. Jackson watched his mouth open and close before he settled on a quiet, “I don’t blame you, Scott.”

“You should. I do. Maybe I should have listened to Derek…” That was a self-recrimination Jackson never thought he’d hear.

“No, no, come on - you’d have been fine if I’d just tightened the shackles properly. Next time will be fine, even if we have to cut off all the circulation in your hands. We don’t need Derek.”

“I should have tried harder to calm myself down before sundown. I should have -”

“Scott. I understand. Stop beating yourself up over this - it’s not every day your dad calls out of the blue and demands to see you.”

Jackson couldn’t help the little intake of breath, thankful beyond measure that Stiles just continued to talk right over it, masking the sound.

“I mean, what are the odds he’d do that right on a full moon night? Okay, like, one in thirty or so, but still. Bad timing.”

Scott didn’t reply, but Jackson could hear the hitch in his breathing that meant he was fighting back tears. He reminded himself furiously that he had no reason to care. Scott, and all the drama that went with him, had no place in his life anymore. That didn’t stop the aching in his chest.

Stiles wordlessly shifted closer and slung an arm around Scott, pulling him into an affectionate hug. “You’ll be okay. You just had a lot piled on you all at once, that’s all. It’ll be okay.”

They sat like that for a while, and Jackson’s growing frustration at their continuing refusal to just _fuck off_ and have their heart to heart elsewhere continued to build. It helped to ease that little stab of guilt that he couldn’t help himself from feeling.

Eventually Stiles shook his head, laughing softly, breaking the solemn mood, and shoved Scott. “Come on then, you hormonal jerk. It’s chili night - you know how much I love your mom’s chili. If you make me miss it I might never forgive you.”

They went home - _finally_ \- and Jackson was just making his way off the field when Lydia’s voice stopped him. “Jackson! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

He stopped in his tracks. Just what he needed right now - another obstacle.

Lydia stopped beside him and linked their arms together, a smile on her face, and Jackson suddenly felt like he was in some parallel universe where they’d never broken up. He looked at her in bemusement, wondering if she’d lost her mind, or her memory, or both.

Lydia’s smile only widened at his wide eyed shock; predatory. She walked, towing Jackson along beside her like a living accessory. Oh, how he had not missed that feeling one little bit.

“I have a proposition for you, Whittemore.”

“Oh, what’s that?” he asked, prepared to humour her.

“See, this is what’s going to happen,” she started, voice light as a bell, and all the more dangerous for it. “We’re getting back together.”

Jackson couldn’t help it - he laughed. Right in her face.

Lydia waited it out, smile never slipping; only growing more shark-like by the second. “I know about you and Scott.”

Jackson stopped in his tracks. It felt like his heart stopped for a split second. He pulled a nonchalant expression out from somewhere and moved Lydia along again, hoping she hadn’t noticed the slip, knowing that she must have. “What is it that you think you know?”

She rolled her pretty eyes at him. “Please. You’re fucking him. You’re sleeping with your so-called arch rival, and you seem to be taking great pains to keep it a secret. And you see, Jackson, I’m not very good at secrets…”

“What do you want?” Jackson snapped, cutting the bullshit.

“You humiliated me. Who’s to say I don’t just want a little payback?”

“If that’s all you wanted you’d have done something already. And yet here you are, talking to me. You say you want to get back together - I don’t believe you. What do you really want, Lydia?”

Lydia shrugged, her expression light. Christ, she really didn’t give anything away. She’d have killed at poker. “Remember when we ruled this school? Queen Bee and Captain of the team? I want that back, even if it is a sham. We’ll both get something out of it. I’ll be your beard, if you be my distraction.”

“What?” Jackson’s brain refused to parse what Lydia had just said. She wanted a fake relationship? Why?

“Like I said, you humiliated me. My status can’t take another hit like that. What I want…” Her eyes turned vulnerable, and damn but that wasn’t fair - no-one that calculating had the right to look so damn innocent. “I want to date Stiles.”

Jackson resisted the urge to laugh in her face again. “Go for it. I’m pretty sure the girls aren’t breaking his door down just yet, so it’s not like you’ve got competition.”

“Shut up! He’s worth ten of you!” she snapped, fierce for a moment. She paused, recovering her composure. “You,” she said accusingly, “have ruined my reputation. You need to help me get it back.”

“Do you think you can date him in secret or something? Do you know how impossible that would be to pull off?”

She shrugged. “I figured. I’ll settle for getting to dump you this time.”

Jackson had to laugh. So much _bullshit_ they put into maintaining the status quo. “So you figure you’ll build your reputation back up by ‘dating’ me, dump me so you go out on a high, and then just hope asking Stilinski out doesn’t make you into an overnight social outcast.”

Lydia grinned. “You do have a brain in that pretty head of yours. All that and you even get to keep your boy, too. Nobody would doubt you if you had me on your arm.”

Jackson scoffed. They reached the edge of the parking lot and stopped. There was no-one around to overhear. “As it happens, Lydia, I was trying to get rid of ‘the boy.’ Too clingy.” He shuddered, like he could think of nothing worse.

Lydia didn’t look like she bought it. “I saw the way you looked at him. It’s what gave you away, actually, but fine, if you’re still ridiculously terrified of intimacy -”

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying.” She looked at him shrewdly. “All the more reason to go along with my idea. Nothing says ‘I’ve moved on, so should you’ like a new girlfriend.”

Maybe she was onto something there…“How long are we talking, here?” he asked, ushering Lydia over to his car and opening the door for her.

Lydia smiled like a shark and got in, knowing she’d gotten her way.

***

A month passed, and Jackson spent his days hanging from Lydia’s arm like the latest Hermés handbag, laughing with her and pretending to be happy. Every night, without fail, he dreamed of Scott, and woke feeling the ghost of his touch on his skin. It was maddening.

‘Cheer up, Jackson,’ he told himself as he ushered Lydia to her seat in the biology lab for first period, ‘at least half of that equation’s nearly over and done with.’

They’d decided, beforehand, that a month was about long enough to re-establish Lydia’s place on the top of the social hierarchy. With any luck she’d be breaking up with him before noon.

He sat on his stool beside Lydia and rubbed at his eyes as he opened his textbook and tried to read what was in front of him. It didn’t help that he was so tired that the words swam in and out of focus. He hadn’t been sleeping that well lately.

He found himself zoning out, until a voice brought him back.

“Thanks for coming. I’m sorry for making you late.”

Allison. Allison didn’t even take this class. His eyes darted around, searching for the source, and finally saw her, outside, sitting on a bench, with Scott standing in front of her. He frowned, and trained his ears on what they were saying.

“I guessed it was probably pretty important. What’s up?” Scott’s voice was cooler than he’d have expected, considering he was talking to his precious Allison. Jackson remembered the way his eyes used to light up just at the mention of her.

Allison faltered, obviously noting the distance as well as Jackson had. “I just wanted to warn you. The other hunters -” she broke off, considering her words. “They’re not like my dad, Scott. They’re kind of…militant. And they’re talking about ramping up their patrols, since it’s so close to the full moon now. Just - be careful, okay?”

Shit. Derek would just _love_ to hear that. Like he wasn’t paranoid enough with all the hunters infesting the woods at all hours of the night. Jackson didn’t relish having to tell him _that_.

Lydia nudged him. “You could try not being so obvious, you know.”

Jackson scowled at her. “I was not. I was -”

“Admiring the scenery?” she said archly. “I’ll bet.” She gave Scott an appreciative once over, biting her lip consideringly. “Why wasn’t he popular? I mean look at him - people that look like him aren’t supposed to be unpopular. I don’t get it.”

“I think maybe he was shy,” Jackson replied after a while, and tried to make himself focus on the page in front of him.

From the corner of his eye he saw Lydia grin wickedly, twirling her pen in her fingers, still looking out the window. “Was he good? I’ll bet he was good - he was _wild_ that time I made out with him in Coach’s office.”

Jackson glared at her. “Can we not have this conversation, Lyd?”

Lydia just laughed softly, shaking her head. “Oh, you’ve got it bad. Why can’t you just stop being stupid and go get him back?”

“Lydia. Shut up,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

“No-one would care, Jackson. Okay, being gay might not fit in with whatever American Pie, WASPy ideal you’re trying to sell everyone, but no-one would mind.”

“What the hell, Lydia?” Jackson hissed, eyes darting around to make sure no-one was paying attention to their conversation.

“I don’t get why this has to be such a big deal, that’s all. What, it’s okay for Danny, but not you?”

“Danny’s parents are crunchy granola eating, crystal worshipping hippies - they’d have been disappointed in him if he were straight, but that’s not why -”

“Please. Your parents would love you if you decided to give up all your possessions and move to Siberia to communicate with wild tigers.”

Jackson ground his teeth. “That’s not even it, okay?” He lowered his voice even further. “He just... he wanted too much from me, that’s all.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Boys.”

Jackson was close to losing his cool at that point, but thankfully Ms. Belmont showed up then, apologising profusely and firmly shutting down the unwanted conversation Jackson had been stuck in.

After biology, Jackson took Lydia’s arm so he could be paraded around the halls like a living Ken doll some more. ‘A few more hours,’ he told himself.

They passed Scott on the stairs, and Jackson automatically pasted a smile on his face, as he’d taught himself to do anytime he was with Lydia when Scott was nearby.

Not that the façade did much good; Scott looked like a marble sculpture, for all the expression he gave away, and Jackson’s heart still leapt into his throat at the sight of him.

He craned his neck to watch Scott’s retreating back, and Lydia elbowed him in the ribs. “You suck at this,” she said. “Pretending not to care, I mean.”

He scowled at her. He was angry at himself more than anything; the way his eyes sought Scott out in a crowd, looking for a reaction; any reaction. He couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Scott hadn’t responded to being dumped quite like Jackson had thought he would. Truth be told, he’d thought Scott - sweet, sensitive Scott, who wore his heart on his sleeve like no other - would have been a mess. Instead Jackson wound up feeling like some storybook villain who’d turned the prince’s heart to stone.

It wasn’t right - the coldness in Scott’s eyes. Oh, he was polite enough, and completely sportsmanlike on the field, but the way he just seemed to shut down emotionally when he caught sight of Jackson hurt worse than any intentional barb.

Jackson had to laugh at himself. He’d wanted to kill Scott’s feelings - well, he’d done that alright. Be careful what you wish for, they said. How right that was.

He left Lydia off at her class and cursed as he bumped into someone.

“Sorry!” Stiles said automatically as he fumbled for his dropped books, then looked up. “Oh. Jackson.” He didn’t sound so sorry anymore. In fact, he looked like he might in actual fact be wishing Jackson dead right now. Jackson wondered how much of that was down to him breaking Scott’s heart, and how much to the fact that he was ‘dating’ Lydia again.

He straightened Stiles up (much to the kid’s irritation) and said, “If only you knew.” He walked off with Stiles still glaring after him.

His day only got better from there - Lydia decided to stage her public breakup at lunchtime in the cafeteria, so he got to listen to her loudly tell him he wasn’t man enough for her - amongst other things - in front of a crowd of a few hundred other people. He skipped lunch after that, rather than sit there listening to people pretend not to snigger and point at him.

He spent the rest of the day hungry and deliberately ignoring all the delightful things people were saying about him behind his back. Why did he think this had been a good idea again?

The final bell rang, and he made a dash for his car, ignoring Danny’s offer of a consolatory pizza and beer. He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, wincing when it made a noise that could mean nothing good.

Christ, he needed a drink. That was one option no longer available to him, so he did the next best thing - he went out to an old abandoned parking lot and he drove. Furiously, and like a maniac, but after an hour or so he felt a little calmer.

He was just thinking of heading over to Derek’s when his phone rang.

“What?”

“Forgive me?” Lydia said guiltily on the other end of the line.

“‘You never satisfied me anyway?’” he quoted. “Really, Lydia? You don’t think that was a little below the belt?”

“So I got a little caught up in the moment. Did I mention how much you completely humiliated me that one time?”

“Jesus, fine, maybe I deserved it. So, what are you going to do now?”

“I did it,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Did what?”

“Stiles. I asked him out. I’m going on a date with him. Tonight.” She let out an ecstatic, high pitched noise that hurt Jackson’s ears.

Jackson suppressed the condescending, jerky response that wanted to escape his lips. She sounded so happy. Genuinely happy, like he hadn’t heard her in forever. “Good for you,” he said instead. “Now if you’ll forgive me, I have to go shoot myself. I’m never going to live down what you did to me today.”

She scoffed down the phone. “You’ll get over it.” She paused, so long Jackson almost hung up on her. When she spoke, her voice was soft. Affectionate, almost. “You make things so hard for yourself, Jackson. You could be so happy, if only you’d let yourself.”

She hung up before Jackson could sputter out an indignant response.

He took one look at Derek when he got to the Hale house, and immediately knew his day wasn’t going to be getting better any time soon.

Derek had been pacing in front of the window when he came in, as he did frequently now, but abandoned that for interrogating Jackson the moment he came in the door. “Did they follow you today?” His eyes were filled with a light that was fanatical and not quite sane.

“No, not today.”

“Are you sure? Did you use your senses properly?” God, but Derek had gotten paranoid. He guessed watching most of your family burn to death at the hands of a rogue hunter might do that to a man.

“Yes, Derek, I’m sure,” he said gently. He had been followed once, by some guys in a black SUV with tinted windows after school. After an initial ‘oh God, I’m going to die’ moment of shitting himself, he’d figured they were just keeping tabs on who came and went from the Hale house, and that there was no way they’d make a move out in the open, in full daylight, while he was in human skin.

Derek went to the window and pulled back the curtain, apparently not taking Jackson’s word for it. He closed his eyes and stood there heaving in a breath or two for a moment, before turning around. “I went hunting today. With a bow and everything; I wasn’t taking any chances. They almost shot me. Mountain ash bolt from a crossbow. Said they were sorry, they didn’t see a person there. Said it was a good thing it hadn’t been night time, or there might have been a horrible accident.”

No, that didn’t sound like a threat at all…

“We need to get Scott back,” Derek said, apropos of nothing. Jesus, not this again. It wasn’t going to happen.

Jackson contained his groan, barely. “Having Scott back won’t make the hunters go away, Derek.”

“It would stabilize the pack, if we can do the proper rituals together. It would make me stronger, and then maybe I could protect us all properly…”

That was why Jackson tried to be patient with Derek when he was like this; the fact that he just seemed to desperately want to protect what he saw as his pack; even Scott, who resented the hell out of him.

He watched Derek gear up for another round of pacing, and knew he had to divert his attention somehow. So he began offloading his day on Derek. He glossed over the parts with Scott, and played up the drama with Lydia. The insane light eased from Derek’s eyes after a while, and Jackson even thought he caught a smile at one point.

“…so she basically emasculated me in front of the entire school, all so that she could date that dweeb Stiles without people laughing at her -”

Derek went very still suddenly, and Jackson paused, not liking the expression on his face one bit. “Stiles…of course.”

“Stiles what?” Jackson said. “What about Stiles? And would you please stop looking at me like I’ve just gave you the solution to the world debt crisis?”

Derek just grinned wider, and shook his head, disbelieving. “Stiles was the answer, all along. All I had to do was turn him. If I brought him into the pack, Scott would never leave the kid all alone with me. And hell, it’s not like he’d be a bad addition - he’s smart, and he’s brave, even if we might need a muzzle to shut him up -”

“No,” Jackson said.

Derek stopped dead. “What do you mean, no? Are you forgetting who’s alpha here, kid?”

Jackson swallowed, but he wouldn’t back down. Not on this. “The bite could kill him. You can’t take that chance, you said so yourself. You can’t do this.” _You can’t do this to Scott_.

Derek shook his head once, dismissive. “He’s strong. He’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. You said he was going on a date with that girl tonight? Lydia, right? Did she say where they were going?”

“I’m not telling you shit, Derek! I can’t let you do this!”

Suddenly Derek was inches away, teeth sharp and eyes glowing red. He slammed Jackson back into the wall, looming over him and growling into his face. Jackson trembled, but stood his ground. He couldn’t let this happen.

Derek roared, terrifyingly, and raised his clawed hand. Jackson squeezed his eyes closed and braced for impact. Instead the wall beside him exploded in a shower of plaster and wood. He opened his eyes to see Derek breathing hard, hand imbedded in the wall to the side of him, human again. He removed his hand from the wall, shook it out, and began to walk away.

Jackson didn’t know what came over him. “I’ll stop you. I won’t let you do this.” God, that was dumb.

Derek turned back around, face remarkably like a parent that had been pushed too far, grabbed Jackson by the scruff of the neck, and marched him down, wordlessly, into the basement.

When Jackson saw the cage, he knew what Derek meant to do. “Derek, stop it! You’re fucking crazy!”

Against his will, he was dragged, struggling and protesting, into the cage. It closed with an ominous bang, and Jackson watched Derek leave without a backwards glance.

He slammed his body against the cage in impotent rage, screaming after Derek. It was no use - he was long gone. The sun was down, and it was getting darker by the second in the basement. He paced, feeling useless.

Visions of Lydia’s ravaged, lifeless body when he’d found her on the lacrosse field danced in his mind. He imagined the look on Scott’s face when they found Stiles like that. He couldn’t bear it.

His frustration warred with his fury at Derek, and he found that he couldn’t control himself. He shifted. The moon, almost full, gave the wolf power. The wolf knew what to do. The wolf howled.

Deep and powerful and needful, the wolf called. He didn’t care that the hunters would hear him, or even Derek. The wolf called for his mate, and Jackson just hoped that he would come.

He was just about to give up, defeated, when the answering howl came - ‘I’m here. I’m coming.’

After an eternity, Scott appeared, out of breath and wild eyed. “Jackson? What happened?”

Jackson let out a juddering, relieved laugh. “God, I’ve never been so relieved to see you. Get me out of here - Derek’s gone crazy. The keys are just over there.”

Scott put the key in the lock, fumbling with shaking fingers. “God, you scared the shit out of me. I thought the hunters had got to you guys or something.”

Well, that was unexpectedly warming. “Don’t be too relieved - Derek’s gone mad. He’s out there trying to find Stiles so he can turn him.”

Scott froze as he opened the door to the cage. “Oh God.”

Jackson stepped past him and grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him along. “Come on, I don’t think we have much time. Did Stiles tell you where he and Lydia were going?”

“I don’t know. He was so excited I couldn’t make out half of what he was talking about.”

“Do you have your cell phone?”

“Shit. I never even thought -”

“Then we’ll just have to track them. How hard could it be, right? They’re our friends, we know them better than anyone. We can start in town and work our way out.”

Jackson was just about to hop into his Porsche when Scott grabbed him by the arm, wincing. “I hate to break it to you, but it looks like Derek slashed your tyres.”

“I’m going to fucking _kill_ him!” Jackson screamed, kicking the tyre rim.

“We don’t have time, man. You can beat Derek to a pulp when we find him, but we have to save Stiles first.”

Right. Jackson pulled himself together and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

It was almost like hunting. Running, on two legs or four, extending his senses and working with another wolf to locate his ‘prey’ - this is what he was made for. His wolf was happy, even if the human part of him was sick with worry.

Scott stilled suddenly, before they’d even reached town. He tilted his head, hearing something Jackson hadn’t honed in on yet. “They’re parked out on the bluff. Huh. Go Stiles.”

Jackson snorted. He hadn’t thought Stilinski had it in him. He might not have very much of anything left in him - including intestines - if they didn’t get to him in time.

He and Scott shared a look, and ran.

The area was deserted, but for Stiles’ jeep, and they almost breathed a sigh of relief at having got there first, until a deep, rumbling growl split the air, and a huge, inhuman shape lurched out of the woods, landing on the hood of the car.

Lydia shrieked and Stiles yelled, and Derek - now a mass of hair and muscle, more wolf than human - slammed one clawed fist through the windscreen.

Stiles and Lydia scrambled from the car, Lydia half falling in her haste to get away. Derek swiped at her with the back of one paw and she fell, unconscious, to the ground.

“Lydia!” Stiles yelled, and tried to go back to help her. Derek lunged at him, and would have caught him, if Scott hadn’t thrown himself in between them and intercepted the strike.

Both wolves roared - Derek in fury and Scott in pain - and turned to face each other.

Derek’s features seemed to melt and shift until he was capable of human speech once more. “Get out of the way, Scott,” he said, in a voice like broken glass.

Scott dropped into a defensive crouch in front of Stiles, who was pulling himself to his feet and looking desperately at Lydia’s limp form, just feet from them. “I won’t let you do this. You can have Stiles over my dead body.”

“Scott!” Stiles gasped, even as Derek let out anther furious roar.

“Jackson! I’ll keep him busy - you get Stiles and Lydia away, okay?” Scott said, low and serious, never taking his eyes off Derek.

Jackson just nodded, trying not to think about it, and watched for an opportunity. Lydia was behind Derek - he’d have to pull her away somehow, without being ripped to shreds. Easier said than done.

Scott took care of that by suddenly throwing himself at Derek, grabbing him by the neck and trying to wrestle him to the ground. It didn’t last long - Derek tossed him aside like a rag doll - but it was enough for Jackson to dart in and pull Lydia out.

Derek turned to them and let out a blood curdling bellow that had Jackson cringing back without thought. Then all at once Stiles was turning Jackson to face him, white faced and terrified, and Scott was pulling himself up and throwing himself right back into the fray.

“Jackson, please, you’ve got to help me here,” Stiles pleaded, and Jackson made himself ignore the snarling and the snapping and the horrible crunching of bones behind him to focus on the humans. Lydia was stirring, face contorted into a rictus of pain and horror, moaning pitifully. Jackson gathered her into his arms and turned to Stiles. “Move!”

They ran, as best they could, until Lydia came around, took one look at Jackson’s lupine features, and screamed. Startled, Jackson dropped her.

“Ow! Jackson? Is that you? What the hell are you? And why the hell did you drop me, you…you -”

“Werewolf, Lyd. I’m a werewolf, and I’m in the process of saving your god damned life, so you can save the freakout for later, okay?”

She looked back at him with freakishly huge, moist, bush baby eyes, and swallowed. “Stiles! Where’s Stiles?”

“Here, Lydia, I’m here.” Stiles went to her and pulled her into a hug. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

An inhuman scream pierced the air, and Jackson moaned. “Jesus Christ, he’s fucking _killing_ him.” He thought for a moment, torn, then let out one bracing breath, praying for the strength to do what he had to.

“Stiles. Take Lydia and run. Go to your dad - Derek wouldn’t dare attack you in front of him -”

“Holy shit - that thing is _Derek_?”

“Yes!” Jackson snapped. A noise, half howl, half scream, all Scott, and fuck, that settled it. He only hoped he survived it. “Go!” he roared, and ran back to the bluff to help Scott. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to.

Derek had Scott pinned to the ground when Jackson got there; claws dug mercilessly into his shoulders and teeth at his throat.

Jackson didn’t let himself think about the stupidity of what he was about to do - just threw himself at Derek’s back and held on as Derek roared and tossed him around like a rodeo bull. It wasn’t long before he was flung off, slamming painfully into a tree trunk.

Then Scott was by his side, pulling him up. They stood, back to back, as Derek circled them, searching for an easy opening. “Why’d you come back?” Scott asked over his shoulder, one eye on Derek’s movements.

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself…” Jackson muttered, then darted back as Derek made a strike for him.

“Seriously, Jackson, go. He’s out of his freaking mind - I don’t know what he might do.”

“I’m not leaving you here to get yourself killed, you idiot,” Jackson snapped, and turned to glare at Scott.

That distraction was all Derek needed - he leapt at them both and threw them to the ground. Jackson shrank back and braced himself for the pain of having his throat torn out. It never came. He opened his eyes to see Scott beside him, dazed but whole, and unharmed. Derek was nowhere in sight. “Shit.”

They pulled themselves up and stumbled along in Derek’s wake, following the stench of fear the humans were giving off.

Close; they were so close. Jackson could hear Stiles’ heaving breaths and Lydia’s half hysterical sobs. They were in the clearing, just ahead, not much further now - but then came the crashing, snapping noise of Derek hurtling through the undergrowth, and he was on them.

Jackson and Scott burst into the clearing just as Stiles pushed Lydia behind him. Derek made a desperate lunge and connected, sinking his teeth deep into Stiles’ neck.

Someone screamed. For one moment, the world stood still, then everything exploded into motion.

Stiles lay in Lydia’s arms, bleeding all over her pretty dress, mouth opening and closing wordlessly in shock. Scott, all thoughts of Derek apparently gone from his mind, had his hand pressed against Stiles’ neck, frantically trying to stem the fountain of blood, babbling useless reassurements at his friend. Derek had staggered back, human, staring in disbelief at what he’d done.

Jackson took it all in, and realised someone had to take charge of this mess, or not everyone was going to make it out alive tonight. “Derek. _Derek_!” he barked, snapping the alpha out of his daze. “I need a few strips of fabric. Your shirt’ll do, if it’s clean enough. Now, Derek!”

Derek complied meekly, immediately stripping off the tattered remains of his shirt and ripping several long strips from it. He handed them to Jackson. “I never meant to -”

“I have no time for your bullshit and I don’t care what you meant. Tell it to them,” Jackson said, motioning to the trio of frightened children before them. He ignored Derek and went and knelt beside Stiles. “Scott, I need you to lift your hand for a minute. When I get the bandage on, help me keep pressure on it, okay?”

Scott nodded, shocked and pale.

“One, two, three!” Jackson counted, and they quickly worked together to tie their makeshift bandages around Stiles’ neck. Stiles was unconscious now. “Well, good news is, I don’t think the artery’s torn,” Jackson told Scott and Lydia.

“How do you know?” Scott asked, voice childlike and hopeful.

Jackson grimaced. “Because he’d probably be dead by now if it were. We’ve got to get him to a hospital.”

“You can’t do that.” Derek. Jackson had forgotten he was there.

Scott growled. “I’m not leaving him here to die, Derek, so you can just take all your alpha bullshit and shove it right up your -”

“And what if he turns? What then? He goes in with his throat torn out and comes out the next day without even a scar? We can’t risk that, it puts us all in danger -”

“You already put us all in danger, you god damn -”

“Scott. He’s right,” Jackson said quietly, struggling to think of an alternative. He turned to Derek. “Isn’t there some kind of ritual, or werewolf medicine, or -”

Derek shook his head no, and opened his mouth, but it was Scott who interjected. “There is.” He laughed, relieved and half hysterical. “My boss is a werewolf vet. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. He’ll help.”

Jackson and Derek both took a minute to boggle at him.

“I hate to interrupt, but my boyfriend is still bleeding to death over here,” Lydia interjected, and stood, visibly pulling herself together. She looked at Jackson and nodded, eyes steely. “Jackson, go clear the worst of the glass out of the jeep and make sure it’s driveable. Scott, take my phone and call your boss. You - what’s your name?” she barked, tough as any drill sergeant, right at a shell shocked Derek Hale. “Whatever - you’re big. You’re going to put Stiles in the backseat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Derek agreed, meek as a lamb, and bent to lift Stiles. The rest of them hurried to carry out Lydia’s orders. Soon they were crammed into Stiles’ jeep, and on their way to the vet’s. Jackson just hoped they’d make it in time.

***

Dr. Deaton was just unlocking the back door when they arrived at the veterinary clinic in a squeal of tyres. “What’s this all about, Scott?” he asked, craning his neck for a look inside the jeep.

“I’ll explain when we get inside, I swear,” Scott said, and went to help Jackson carry Stiles’ through the back door. Together, they carefully laid him on the surgical table and looked expectantly at the vet.

“Can you help him?” Scott asked.

Dr. Deaton took a moment to look at the boy on the table, shocked, then took a breath and nodded, focusing on the problem at hand. “I need you to tell me what happened. Is he a werewolf?”

“No, he’s human. Or he was. Derek - the alpha - he bit him. Will he be okay? Can you fix him?” God, the hope in Scott’s voice. How could anyone say no to that?

Dr. Deaton went to work, lifting the makeshift bandage to look at the wound, then checked Stiles’ temperature and blood pressure. He didn’t answer for a long while, and nobody dared to breathe.

“This bite is deep. Too deep. Were you trying to turn him or kill him?” he asked Derek, eyebrow raised and mouth pressed into a thin line. He didn’t wait for an answer in any case. “There’s not much I can do at this point - the infection’s in his bloodstream, and it’s doing its best to change him, but he’s lost a heck of a lot of blood, and he’s weakened. All I can do is give him some fluids and something to ease the pain and hope to hell this bite takes.” He shrugged. “We’ll just have to wait.”

Dr. Deaton did what he could to make Stiles more comfortable, inserting an I.V. and cleaning and dressing his wound, while Scott hovered.

“Oh for - Jackson, do something with your boy. He’s getting in the way,” Lydia snapped, nerves fraught.

Jackson rolled his eyes, but pulled a protesting Scott to the side nonetheless. Somewhere along the line, his arm found itself looped around Scott’s waist, offering comfort. A weight he hadn’t known was pressing down on him was lifted when Scott leaned into him, pressing against his side.

“And you!” Lydia said, turning to Derek, her voice somewhere between a yell and a wail. “You have no business here anymore. Fuck off! We’ll call you if he dies.”

Derek looked like he might protest, until Jackson and Scott both gave him a long, hard stare, silently backing Lydia up. He shook his head. “Fine,” he said quietly. He looked at Jackson. “Let me know if anything changes.”

Hours passed, and the three of them sat huddled in a pile next to Stiles, exhausted. Lydia looked downright awful; pale and bloodstained, with mascara tracks running down her cheeks. This whole thing must have been horrific for her, after what she’d been through at the winter formal.

Dr. Deaton came back to check in on Stiles. When he turned to them, there was a faint smile on his face. “Good news, kids. His temperature’s going down fast and his wound’s starting to heal more rapidly. That means the change is taking effect. When he wakes he’ll be a werewolf, but at least he’ll be alive.”

“Thanks, Dr. Deaton,” Scott said, relieved and grinning. “I owe you one.”

The vet chuckled. “You owe me more than one, Scott, but I’ll settle for a few more hours at the clinic next week.”

“Anything you want.”

“Anything? Then I suggest you send a certain someone on home for some rest.” Dr. Deaton motioned at Lydia, who was slumped with her head in her hands, all the adrenaline that had been keeping her going long gone.

Jackson looked between Scott and Lydia, knowing the gentlemanly thing to do would be to drive Lydia home.

The vet gave him a look so knowing that Jackson fought not to squirm. “Miss Martin, is it?” he asked Lydia.

Lydia, who’d been half asleep, blinked awake. “Yeah. Lydia. Lydia Martin.”

Dr. Deaton offered her a reassuring smile. “I was just about to head home, if you’d like a ride?”

“Oh, I couldn’t -”

“Lydia,” Scott said, “it’s okay. He’s going to be fine. He'll probably be able to call you himself in the morning. Go get some sleep.”

Lydia nodded, looking childlike and startlingly innocent. “Okay. I’ll come see him tomorrow.” She paused, then leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to Stiles’ cheek before she went.

Then Jackson and Scott were alone, leaning against each other for support, with their backs to the table and only the occasional bark of a sick dog breaking the silence.

Jackson was half dozing when Scott nudged him in the side. “I just wanted to say thanks for all you did tonight. I know you didn’t have to. Help me out, I mean.”

Jackson nudged him back, still not quite looking him in the face. “Yes I did. Besides, fat lot of good it did…”

Scott did turn to face him then, earnest and almost…worshipful. The same way he used to look at Allison. “But you tried. That’s what matters. You could have gotten in a lot of shit for standing up to Derek like that, and you did it anyway. So thank you.”

Jackson swallowed a couple of times, choking on the words that wouldn’t come out. “No problem,” he said finally, and it wasn’t at all what he wanted to say.

Another few moments passed before Scott spoke again. “I’m sorry I said all those things I did. Being stuck with you wasn’t so bad.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jackson replied, deadpan.

Scott thumped Jackson on the shoulder, and let out a bit of a laugh. “You know what I mean. We were sort of good together. Can’t we go back to that?”

Jackson turned to stare at him incredulously. “You really want to get back together? Why? We’re like night and day. We barely even like each other.”

“I like you just fine,” Scott said, almost huffing.

“You don’t even know me, Scott,” Jackson insisted. He wanted to say yes, but knew they couldn’t build a relationship on just sex and instinct. Scott was good at infatuation, there was no denying that, but there was no way he knew what he was asking for.

“I know more than you might think,” Scott said, quiet, firm, and knowing.

“Oh, really? Tell me then, what you think it is you know about me,” Jackson snapped.

Scott didn’t rise to the bait, and answered as if it hadn’t been rhetorical. “I think that because someone gave you up once, you’ve spent your entire life trying to prove that you would have been good enough for them.”

Jackson wanted to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. He felt exposed; naked under Scott’s frank gaze.

“I know that when you’re hurt or scared or you don’t feel good enough, you lash out at other people.” Scott paused, and took a dumbstruck Jackson’s hand in his. “I know you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and you’re good at everything you want to be good at, and I know that’s because you work twice as hard as anyone else at it.

“I know you can be really kind, when you think no-one’s paying attention. I know you’re not half as much of a hardass as you think you are. And I know that you could be a really amazing person one day, if you just let go of all that anger and doubt in you.”

Scott was looking at him like he hung the moon and stars, so soft and warm. That look couldn’t be for him.

“You think so?” Damn, that had come out a whole lot less sarcastic than he’d intended.

Scott just smiled at him, and stroked his thumb over the back of Jackson’s hand. “Yeah. I do.”

A cough interrupted whatever Jackson might have said to that. “Much as it pains me to interrupt this beautiful little heart to heart,” came a wobbly voice from up on the table, “my bladder is about to explode, and I can’t pretend to be unconscious anymore. Please get me down from here before I pee myself.”

“Stiles!” Scott flew to his friend’s side. “How do you feel?”

Stiles winced as Scott helped him up, reaching up to touch the place on his neck where his wound should have been. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, but remarkably in one piece. I shouldn’t really be in one piece, should I Scott?”

Scott shook his head ‘no.’

“I’m a werewolf, aren’t I Scott?”

A nod ‘yes.’

Stiles mulled that over for a while, then broke out into a grin. “Sweet!” Then he thought it over for a minute, and his face fell. “I’m totally Derek’s bitch now, aren’t I? Damn it!”

“If it’s any consolation, I think we’re all stuck with him now,” Scott said unhappily.

“Look, much as you might not want to hear it, I think we need him as much as he needs us right now,” Jackson told them, recoiling at their twin glares. “Yeah, what he did was stupid. Dangerous and stupid, but he wasn’t in his right mind. Those hunter friends of Mr. Argent’s have been harassing him, and judging by what happened to the rest of his family, he probably has pretty good reason to be paranoid.”

Scott frowned. “Why did he even do it?”

“He took it into his head that he needed you with us if he was going to keep us all safe. He figured you’d have to come back if he had Stiles, and he’d have an extra packmate into the bargain. Two birds, one stone. He wants you as his second.”

“Me?” Scott spluttered, incredulous.

“I know, I don’t get it either,” Jackson said dryly.

“Hang on,” Stiles said, leaning forward. “Say he makes Scott his second. Wouldn’t that mean Scott had at least a little say in how things are run? Especially if we both back him up?”

“Yeah,” Jackson said, warming to the idea. “That might help…”

“Wait up a minute, guys!” Scott yelped. “What if I don’t want to be Derek’s second?”

“Oh, that’s too bad, isn’t it, Jackson?” Stiles said, putting on a wounded face. “Our dear friend Scott, who cares about us so much -”

Jackson picked up where Stiles’ left off, putting as much disappointment into his voice as he could muster, “- wants to leave us alone with a half crazy alpha who could tear us in two at any -”

“Jesus! Fine! I’ll do it.”

Jackson looked at Stiles and they grinned at each other. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

After helping Stiles to the bathroom, they made their way outside. Scott settled Stiles into the backseat while Jackson buckled himself into the driver’s seat. He looked in the rear view mirror and watched them squabble, feeling affection and something like contentment bubbling up in his belly. He’d forgotten what it felt like.

Scott caught his eye in the mirror. “Everything okay, Jackson?”

Jackson aimed a reassuring smile his way. “Yeah. I’m fine,” he said, and started up the car. Sure, he was worried about hunters and maybe his parents reaction, if they were to find out about the whole ‘gay werewolf’ thing, but at that moment he felt like he could face anything. He had his pack. He’d never be alone again.

***

A week later, Jackson wished he could be alone again, if only for a damn minute. Being crammed into a car with two squabbling betas and a glowering alpha tended to do that do him.

“If you don’t shut up I am going to wring both your damn necks!” Derek yelled. Scott and Stiles paid him no mind.

Jackson took his eyes off the road to raise his eyebrow at Derek. “You still think having these two in your pack’s a good idea?”

Derek groaned and turned up the radio to drown out the good natured but increasingly annoying argument coming from the back seat. It appeared to be about who had been the better Boy Scout for the six months they’d lasted in fifth grade. If they only lasted six months, neither of them could have all that good, if you asked Jackson, but fuck if he was going to get involved.

“Ooh, can I pick the station?”

“Stiles. I am the alpha. My decision is final. For the last time, this pack is not a democracy!”

Stiles paused for a second. “Well then, think of it more like a union, with Scott as our spokesman.”

Scott gave Derek a look that was half sympathetic, half gleeful. Payback was a bitch. “You do owe me for turning Stiles even though I’d already put a mark on him…”

“That was an accident!”

“Still,” Stiles said, wheedling, “you said yourself that was bad etiquette.”

“Fine,” Derek gritted out. “What station?”

“Anything indie-ish or alt-rock will do.”

“That’s what I had on!”

“Oh. That’s fine then.”

Derek put his head in his hands and groaned.

Jackson tuned them out and drove. He’d tried to tell Derek Stiles should have driven he and Scott in his own repaired Jeep, but no, Derek said they’d be fine. He certainly seemed to be living to regret that decision now.

They were on their way to a nature reserve upstate for their first pack hunt. The wood in Beacon Hills would have been better, Derek said, but with all the hunters around it was too risky. So north they went.

The drive was endless (possibly soul destroying, in Derek’s case) but eventually they arrived at their destination, and Jackson sighed in relief.

It was clear and peaceful out here; the stars bright, and the half moon a hypnotic sigil in the sky. The whole pack quieted in reverence as they made their way through the forest.

Derek stopped them in a small clearing. “This is the place. Tonight we hunt.” His voice rang with significance, and Jackson felt the power of the words flow through him. They all stripped naked and waited, thrumming with pent up energy, for Derek’s signal.

Stiles, the most hyperactive and impatient of the four, whined at the enforced stillness. Scott whapped him gently on the back of the head, and turned to Derek, face solemn.

Derek nodded, and bent to mark a symbol in the dirt. “Tonight we come together to hunt. We will leave this place as brothers. We will be Pack, and from this night forward, we shall not be torn asunder.”

Jackson howled, joining his voice to his brothers,’ feeling it echoing down in his bones. He turned to his mate and he grinned, feral.

And so the pack hunted, and spilled blood together, and were bonded, close as any family. Jackson lay under the stars with his mate, licking the last traces of blood from his skin, and looked up at the moon in the night sky, content.


End file.
